Cale's mind thawed over from the surprise, finally forming a string of thoughts after the heart sinking moment of realization.
'Calm down, there must be a solution. I'm simply looking at it all wrong.'
At the convincing thoughts he rotated around, he began to take in all of the room at once.
An ordinary kitchen, three burned and smudged stoves with counters tugging every wall with the only out of place item being a familiar shaped radio.
'It's turned off?'
Thinking back on how the ghosts inside that room argued, he didn't want to turn it on and risk hearing something akin to a old couple's quarrel.
But....
'If it's placed there so neatly..Yeah, the ghosts might be the clue to this all.'
Everything in this place seemed to be placed intentionally, if so then turning on the radio would give him the undeniable evidence needed to surpass this godawful waste of time.
However, there were undeniable inconsistencies in the conclusion he reached.
If the radio was the solution, and that everything was placed for a reason. Then the first digit he had found in the living room had to be wrong.
But because of the latter, it also had to be right. Cale tapped his foot on the floor.
"This radio....How do I turn it on?"
Cale didn't dwell much at the potential wrong and tinkered with the nobs of the radio till it flared to life.
Static violently pushed the surrounding wall of air, unpleasantly screeching eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.
An absence of comfort travelled to the very edges of Cale's body.
It made his skin go numb slightly. His vision further tunneled on the radio's static.
"Nothing?" Cale ruffled his hair before picking the radio box, shaking it and turning multiple nobs.
'No, it can't be nothing. There has to be something.'
Seconds stretched, the clock hanging above a radiator ticked uncomfortably in his ears.
"..."
Not a single syllable was uttered.
Cale sighed once, his features relaxed as the radio in his hand was about to be placed back.
-Having trouble youngling?
THWACK—!
Before Cale could even put the radio box down, a sudden voice poked at his reflexes and instincts.
He hadn't even registered his first action which had flung the fragile box giving birth to unnecessary static.
"Ha...Ha...Ha..."
For the first time in a long while since dying, he had gotten a jumpscare that jumpstarted every sleeping organ inside him.
Through his ragged breaths and trembling, he glared at the intact radio laughing hysterically in the static.
-KuHAHA! Cough! Eh- HAH-HA!
In the background, the slamming on the kitchen counter could be vividly heard. Adding two spoonful of salt to the open wound.
Cale dropped down to his knees, feeling his stomach grumble, asking permission to vomit.
"That....Is not funny..."
Finally, he spread his words across with a butter knife called tongue.
-It is when you get this scared even after you killed that dog!
Still on his knees. Cale brought the radio and hugged it with his warm embrace.
Although his body couldn't get any hotter, a mere 0.2% of his body temperature wouldn't get him that cold. It was the close proximity when shooting that made him cold, not the side effects of the weapon.
"So? You knew?"
He asked the old voice. Not beating around the bush any longer.
-Kuk. Yeah I did. Good performance though! It fooled mostly every single extra in there!
The old voice in the radio stopped laughing. Their gender undiscernible.
'Extra? So they aren't important?'
Curious, he asked the very talkative elderly.
"Who exactly are those extras?"
-Oho? You want to know?
With that kind of answer, Cale expected to hear the radio talk.
Instead.
-How mean. I mean I finally get to talk to a ghost that possessed an actual body, and the first thing they say to me is what are the side dishes?
He got slammed with new info that he so didn't need to know.
"???"
At the way the old voice addressed him. Cale hunched over, his shadow stretching over the radio.
"What do you-"
-AH! Wait! We should swiftly make our way out youngling! One more day and we're stuck here forever!
The static grew louder and more pronounced.
-Did you perhaps find a crowbar youngling?
Sensing the urgency in the tone of the voice. Cale reluctantly let go of his curiosity.
Hesitantly, he opened his mouth.
"....It's in the room I first found the radio, the one where all those ghosts were talking, on the cage door there was a keypad with 4 symbols: A sofa, a stove, a toilet and a bed with five digits below each one. I believe that opening the cage door will allow me to access the crowbar hanging from the ceiling."
-...
The static filled the air as Cale finished his report.
It stayed like that for a while, a pondering Cale shook the radio box a few times before an old voice made him stop in his tracks.
-5, 3, 3, 4.
"Eh?"
-That is the code, now go my youngling!
Instantly understanding that this radio box made his life a hundred times easier. Cale with newfound passion moved toward cheat codes rushed out of the kitchen.
Oblivious to his body's fatigue.
*
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Clack!
Cale punched in the code given by the radio, the cage door creaked open, the crowbar and the forcefield that hanged above slowly dropped to the small ebony table.
The blue forcefield surrounding the crowbar dissipated into the air, the crowbar gleamed with attentive care at Cale.
Cale turned his attention toward the radio box, his lips parting before grabbing the crowbar first.
"How did you know the code?"
This was something he wanted to know, curious of the train of thoughts or abilities that this old fellow employed to achieve those results.
Cale first heard a scoff from the old voice. Then a somewhat soft sound that triggered protective instincts.
-Hmph! It was easy. 5 for the entire family and their dog, 3 for the mother, son and daughter dying, 3 again for the family members except the daughter going crazy and finally 4 for the entire family minus the dog.
"..."
'Yeah, okay. At least I got the first one correct.'
Feeling his efforts and paltry smarts being in vain. Cale left the room that was noticeably more silent than it should've been.
His cold figure now bathed in the moonlight of the full moon risen rather quickly walked along the silent corridors, his vision narrowing as fatigue finally settled after relaxation and a sense of safety permeated through him.
-Hmm, you should be able to easily escape with the weather advantage and it being night and all....Not to mention that you're a ghost.
The radio chattered nonsense that didn't quite reach Cale's ears, each time his drowsy eyes winked, his desire to blink and let the crawling darkness consume his vision forever increased with depressing interest rates.
-Or maybe no, your personality feels pretty warped. Did you use your insight perhaps too many times?
"...."
Adrenaline faded at the syllables that lingered in the air.
Cale stopped registering the words outside entirely.
His mind churned wildly with uncomfortable migraines.
'Is something....Wrong with me?'
It dawned on Cale that his emotions and perhaps parts of his personality were being warped, deforming and mixing against itself until it became something bland and monotone. As if he were oddly not himself anymore.
'What is this feeling?'
The surroundings seemed to shrink as he clutched at his chest that heaved up and down in even rhythms.
Even his sense of fear seemed to warp.
The burning sensation in his cold heart deepened with time.
He didn't know what was happening to him...But it felt as if pieces of his own soul were being extracted.
Thud.
His head soon banged on the barricaded door, snapping him out of his thoughts. The drowsiness that grabbed so fervently at him faded.
Cale set the still chattering radio down, every sound seemed to drown out as the surrounding shrink further, pressing into the edges of his blackened and hazy vision.
'Maybe I'm just imagining it.'
He took one deep breath after another, raising the crowbar above his head. Adrenaline pumped the same old drug into his poor heart.
Chaining with his body, the crowbar crushed one plank instantly, a very unrealistic way to break something, which Cale didn't mind much.
Splintered pieces of wood fell to the floor. Each piece faded and split into numerous visions of different memories.
A loving family, an ordinary one with a bit of spice thrown into the mix.
Cale ignored it.
'Seriously.'
"Tsk."
'I don't give a damn at this point, this storiem is dragging it for no reason, is this supposed to make me feel bad?'
If it were like this when he was all fine and full of energy, perhaps he'd find it in him to sympathize for the little girl and her family. But after all of this pain and no gain....
Cale was just too emotionally exhausted to care at this point about the story of a random child that he knew nothing of.
He just wanted it to be over.
To be back at another hell he was forced to partake for no reason.
His only goal being to survive in order to make an ordinary goal.
Revenge?
That charlotte girl or whatever could have it and kiss it all she wants. Cale would even help her if it aligned with his desire to get out of this annoying pit he dug himself.
Swoosh!
His crowbar slammed down again, lacerating through the cold air that contrasted with the heat he felt inside him, crushing another plank that burst into numerous memories that now flashed in Cale's mind.
He raised his crowbar again, crushing the next plank, rushing through the memories and forcibly experiencing all of the sadness the little girl felt when her family slowly tore themselves apart.
Cale eyes flashed, the lingering scent of heat clung to his nostrils as his crowbar crushed the last wooden plank in the way of his escape.
As he did, his point of view changed. Before it did so however. He saw the barricaded door open widely for him, feeling attracted to it, his body fell towards the exit. Putting an 'end' to the storiem in an instant.
"Ha...Ha..."
His restless breaths filled the cold air as his body's attention shifted to the side.
Completely against his explicit will, his perspective changed, he heard the hiccups of a small girl echo at his figure he now could see from another's perspective.
It was disgusting to say the least, a pathetic sight that'd make anyone avoid you.
The figure of his body soon overlapped with another, a man with a well groomed beard and wolf-cut with dark brown hair dominated the scenery that had long since changed into the living room Cale was very familiar with.
Where the door was supposed to be was now a small boy no older than 11, lying on the floor with a face caved in, the scene straight from a movie meant to haunt your dreams.
"I...."
The man let go of his bloodied crowbar, inching closer to his daughter whom was sharing her vision with Cale. Of course, she didn't know that.
"Killed...The demon...."
Without his knowing, the words parted smoothly from his lips.
His hands shook as they reached for the damp and swollen cheek of Charlotte.
"Ch-Charlotte."
The man called out to her. Tone tinted with a lack of courage to ask and a lack of conviction to carry out.
"Le-Let's—!"
The voice cut out, the surroundings and point of view shifted again, this time however. Charlotte hovered her gaze over the dead body of her brother that hit and crushed her bones when their parents weren't looking.
She didn't know the reason as to how he could even house the thoughts to do that to his own blood. Charlotte had long thought of the reason and she could only land one singular conclusion after days of pondering and observing.
Her brother was pushing her away, as if he wanted her to stay as far away from him as possible.
She didn't know why he did it though and she doubted she would ever know. Now that her brother was dead, there was no way for her to truly know.
Or at least, that's what she thought to be the case.
Clearly, a god above watched her and decided to illuminate her insignificant self for the sake of fun.
Thump—!
A loud beat of the heart travelled throughout the silent room.
No voice came out, taking show and don't tell quite literal in its meaning.
The body of Feigling trembled, convulsing and coughing up blood wildly.
It soon stopped.
The iron smell of blood shook Cale's point of view. As he spent more and more time as Charlotte, his bond toward her deepened.
He could feel her vision shaking, her pupils trembling and darting around the room. Her fingers, arms and feet going numb as a sweet bead of sweat dripped to the floorboard. Dampening it with a dark spot deeper than the shade of red.
Feigling's finger's twitched, and that single twitch was all it took to execute a chain of events.
The dead corpse of Feigling was slowly raised back up, alive and still kicking. Dragging himself up as Charlotte kept watching him in disbelief.
'Feigling' took a step toward his sister.
Charlotte's eyes flicked to the table where a cold gun rested, she grabbed ahold of it, gripping it and never wanting to ever let go of her uncle's gift to her father that had great fondness toward guns.
With a turn, she faced Feigling's small smile, something she'd never seen directed at her.
Innocently tilting his head as Charlotte's last trigger holding herself back snapped.
The desert eagle let out a bursting roar infused with the sparks of gunpowder.
The scenery changed again, only this time.
Charlotte was facing the ground, blood pouring out of her bitten shoulder.
Charlotte—No. Feigling's foot made her gaze shift toward him involuntarily. Like a dirty camera that someone poked to get a clear shot.
Feigling smacked his lips smudged with blood and smiled with thin consideration toward Charlotte.
And then, he brought his index finger and took Charlotte's tears that streamed down to her cheeks.
His lips parted into a lullaby, oozing with fake affection.
His voice was innocent, heavenly even.
If only if the situation didn't paint him in such a bad picture...
After the lullaby ended. Feigling's lips parted.
Only this time.
It didn't address Charlotte.
But to...Cale.
"Unknown trespasser. I do not know of the reason you peer through my sister's black and empty eyes, but..."
His voice lowered to a faint whisper that soothed the spirit.
"I sincerely hope we meet directly and not indirectly through a medium as cheap as this sad excuse of a twin sibling."
The world spread ink blacker than black with its brush.
Erasing every figure in the storiem.
Every furniture placed within it and spewing out the one who awakened it in the first place.
Along with his rewards of course.